


Laced-up gloves

by eyeslikerain



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Kinktober 2020, Light Dom/sub, M/M, charmie kinktober, corset kink, kinky gloves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikerain/pseuds/eyeslikerain
Summary: Armie folded the glove, once, twice, until it was a very small black square, put it in his pocket and said firmly:„I‘ll keep this. You‘ll wear it for me.“ Timmy‘s eyes shot up. „And nothing else.“
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	Laced-up gloves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [call_me_by_charmie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_by_charmie/gifts).



> my lovely partner-in-kink! Corsets, clavicles, Timmy's waist - I'm afraid we are the same kind of weird.  
> This fic was inspired by one of my piano students who came last week with black fingernails and fingerless black lace gloves, laced up corset style. When I watched her playing, I felt the fic coming. Don't kill me, I already feel bad enough myself.

The villa rested sleeping and dreaming in the warm late afternoon sun. Amid the lush greenery of the expansive garden, the stones radiated warmth and welcome. What an unreal place Luca had chosen, Armie thought when approaching the house on light steps. And the most magical creature of all was hidden inside the marbled old rooms, as soft piano tunes floating out of the open windows proved. The bike scene with the girls had been easy and quick to shoot. Luca worked some more with the two girls, but Armie was free much earlier than expected. Instead of lingering with the crew, he was drawn towards Tim with invisible strings. How come that the skinny young thing mesmerized him in an unknown way? This was addiction, pure infatuation as he had never experienced before. After weeks of watching himself in astonishment and, to be honest, a sort of shame, Armie had surpassed the point of analyzing and restraining himself. Their days were numbered. He didn‘t want to say with Elio that they had wasted too many. And so, even if feeling a bit creepy, he looked for Tim. Without being noticed at first – he wanted to watch Tim. Never got enough of his beautiful features. The delicate, sweet nose that demanded a kiss every time Armie admired it. The green eyes with their enigmatic sparkle, changing their colour with the time of the day and being an enigma of it‘s own. Tim‘s long, lean torso, provoking phantasies of their own…

Coming closer and stepping as softly as possible on the gravel, he recognized a piece Tim had practiced dozens, no, hundred of times. Even if the most important piano scenes had been shot already, Tim continued to practise in his free time. Partly because he got jitters thinking only of the possibility of re-shooting some of those scenes. His nervousness had peaked on the days involving the unfamiliar, awe-inspiring instrument. He was glad to have survived the crucial moments. But with Luca‘s perfectionism, one never knew. Better to be prepared. Yet it was not only ambition that drove him to the piano - he realized he enjoyed the feeling of old, smooth ivory under his fingers. The soft, mellow sounds coming from the ancient Bösendorfer. Developing the melodies Roberto had shown him further and owning them in a personal and intimate way.

Armie stopped outside the window. Tim was so immersed in his playing that he didn‘t seem to hear anything but his music. Half concealed by a stack of books on the windowsill, Armie saw only the upper half of him, and only from the back. His eyes were lowered on the keys, the thick dark curls moved slowly in tune with the melody. He was shirtless as usual in those warm days. After all the rain, they endured a stretch of welcome but real summer heat. Everyone tried to cope with it in his or her own way, the girls wearing just their bikini tops over their shorts, Armie leaving his shirts unbuttoned. Timmy strode around almost naked. Deliciously naked, Armie had to admit. Alternating wide swimming trunks with the ever dropping Levi‘s, his svelte figur had become a familiar sight on set. Not that it lacked it‘s effect on Armie, still peeping through the window. Even after all those weeks, he allowed himself one long, indulgent gaze over Tim‘s tiny curved waist and enjoyed to see the valley of his spine sway gently with the music. The small round piano seat, movable into every direction, was the right bench for someone as fidgety and always on the move like Tim. Even if sitting, he played like a ballet dancer, elegant and never static. And this delicious waist… Armie wiped his forehead – it was hot today. Better get inside, into the shadowy, cool house.

Walking as softly as possible, he entered the grand old salon with the piano. He hadn‘t planned on surprising Tim, just didn‘t want to interrupt the lovely music spiralling through the house. But when he came into Timmy‘s view, the music stopped abruptly, followd by a pained shriek by Timmy. Tim looked at him in panic, got up and tried to hide his hands behind his slim back – but not before Armie hadn‘t been able to get a glimpse of some black fabric on Tim‘s underarms and hands. Did he wear gloves? In June? In Italy? Was it something pianists do? He remembered seeing a photo of the notorious Glenn Gould, but Lombardy was not Canada, was it? Had Timmy hurt himself by practising too much and too fast? 

Tim was frantically twisting and distorting his hands behind his back, looking lovely and pliable like a dancer when doing so. Seeing him seemingly bound at the wrists, wriggling and bending, brought a flash of unholy visions into Armie‘s mind. Forehead frowned, Tim worried his pink lips simultaneously and looked like a tortured creature from mythology, fixed in place with ropes behind his back. Or rather like the Saint Sebastian they had seen on one of their rare sightseeing trips: bound against a pillar, exposing lovely flesh, and not too little of it, while accepting his deadly wounds with a blissful smile. They had pondered what went on in the heads of priests and monks being exposed to so much male loveliness on a daily basis. Armie stopped where he was and asked:

„Sorry, but – are you all right? What‘s the matter with your hands?“

Timmy moaned wordlessly and turned swiftly. He stayed with his pale long back to Armie and hid his hands while still fumbling on frantically: 

„Don‘t. Leave me alone!“, he demanded as if in pain. Armie started to get concerned and tried one step in Timmy‘s direction. Tim looked at him over his shoulders, his eyebrows contorted, panic in his gaze. When he finally managed to remove something – a piece of black fabric with small dangling ribbons – from his arm, his eyes grew wide. Still looking at Armie, he begged:

„Leave me alone, please. This is“ – in a few graceful steps he was in the small doorless cabinet with the tiny fridge and the bar – „very personal. Please go.“

Armie was puzzled. Timmy was such an open, easy-going character. You saw all his emotions, everything going on in his soul in his beautiful green eyes. They had been close the last weeks, very close. Armie had been proud to be on such intimate terms with Timmy. They had talked about everything in the book or the script, from french kisses to blow jobs to using the bathroom together, without blushing or restraints. They had been honest and open. Timmy knew more about him than most of his other friend, and he had prided himself to be an intimate friend also. Why the secrecy now?

Timmy stood in the tiny cabinet, facing away from him, and continued to fiddle with one arm. Armie couldn‘t restrain his curiosity any longer. With two swift, long steps, he stood behind Timmy and lightly put his hands on the bony shoulders in front of him. Tim let out another, softer tortured cry and let his shoulders sink when Armie gently turned him to see his face. With a gesture of resignation, Timmy let his hands sink. His usually porcelain face was pink. His cheeks glowed like the peonies outside in the garden. He dropped his eyes and let his head hang when Armie lightly took his right arm in his own hand. He grinned when he saw the reason for Tim‘s embarrassment: his elegant little paw was clad in a sinful black lace glove. Fingerless, but intricately laced-up, corset style, on the wrists. One fine black silk ribbon dangled loosely from it. Armie‘s grin grew wider. The slim, graceful hand and underarm rested relaxed in Armie‘s big, warm hand. And looked dramatically like a victorian lady‘s hand. Timmy still avoided his eyes and sighed loudly without looking at him. He sulked:

„I asked you not to intrude. This is really personal.“

„I see“, Armie smiled. When Tim still didn‘t look at him, he raised the elegant white hand and supported the light warm underarm. What a lovely kinky sight this was. Tim almost naked but for black long gloves. Who seemed even blacker against his white skin. Armie lifted Tim‘s arm even higher and planted a deliberate, soft kiss on the smooth skin just above the end of the glove, very close to Tim‘s elbow. Tim couldn‘t hide a soft sigh. Armie kissed the supple skin once more before demanding amused:

„Where did you get those?“

Timmy shrugged, wordlessly. Tentatively, he raised his head and searched for Armie‘s eyes:

„Do you think I‘m weird?“

Armie grinned and squeezed Tim‘s hand which he was still holding:

„I like this kind of weird.“ He traced the criss-cross of the corset style fastening of the gloves.

„I know it‘s kinky, but… I just wanted to see if it‘s possible to play with them. And didn‘t want to try it at Roberto‘s. Why are you here already, are you done?“

Armie nodded: 

„Mussolini had a good day today.“ They grinned. „And – how about the gloves. Can you move enough to play?“

„Actually – yes. I‘m“ - Timmy moaned again – „fuck, this is so embarrassing. The kinky gloves. My vanity, above all. I‘m embarrassed you surprised me at being so vain.“

„I‘d be vain also if I were as beautiful as you. No need to be ashamed.“

Another pink blush spread over Timmy‘s face and his neck. Armie realized he still held the prettily adorned arm. He touched the laced-up part again and mumbled:

„Maybe we have a similar kink.“

Timmy looked at him in surprise:

„You have a kink?“

Armie laughed loudly: 

„Better ask how many I have!“

„Really?“ Timmy felt better instantaneously. „I‘m not the only weird one here?“

„You are a baby. What do you think?“

When their eyes met, Armie saw with relief that their former intimacy seemed restored. Tim‘s whole stance seemed more relaxed and his breathing wasn‘t as shallow as before. „Better to speak or to die?“, shot through Armie‘s head when he moistened his lips. Should he… Would he spoil the kid when sharing a sudden image with him? But Tim had been able to get those unusual gloves in the middle of nowhere in Italy. He must be familiar with certain websites. Armie cleared his throat, felt his heart pounding in his chest and said:

„I like this.“ He traced the lace-up pattern again. „It‘s interesting to see an allusion to corsets here because I have a notion you would look great in…“ His eyes dropped to Timmy‘s tiny waist. He would look superbly. Overwhelmingly so. This delicate waist in a tightly bound corset? White skin above and under it? Perky rosy nipples? Armie groaned inwardly. He had to stop, otherwise he would worry Timmy with an all-too visible proof of his arousal. Timmy in a corset had been one of his very hidden phantasies. To realize that they shared a very special kink was almost too much for him.

Now it was Amie dropping his head and averting his eyes. How small the tiny, dark panelled cabinet was they were standing in. Suddenly, he was aware of the special dusty smell this house had, even if all the doors stood open all day long. The scent was stronger here, as the room was small and not aired. Oak, somehow. Moist oak. Maybe from one of the liquors? Mingled with a sweet scent he recognized as Timmy‘s shower gel. And, unmistakeably, his own sweat. He swallowed and tried to think of a way out when he felt Timmy‘s calm eyes on himself. The gaze was demanding. Mesmerizing. He couldn‘t move. Timmy‘s eyes sparkled shortly, until his expression became serious again. His lips seemed to be plusher and more inviting, his face was pale and serene again when he slowly, slowly drew the gloved hand over his naked torso and let it rest alluringly in a vertical position on his waist, in the place were real corset strings might have been. He held it there, impossibly curved, and looked at Armie. A gaze of mutual silent understanding showed him he had gripped his attention. Pursing his lips, he drew his arm in an elegant, snaking motion over his stomach. Black lace hiding the sweetest bellybutton. Gracing the curve of his waist. Moving in a wave-like motion over his raspberry nipples, hiding and exposing them with the tiny silk ribbon gracing them seconds after his hand. Elegant, long fingers graced the impossibly thin protruding collar bones. From left to right and slowly back again. Black lace hiding pale, smooth skin. Hiding the most adorable freckle and showing it again. Armie felt his throat get dry. Only Timmy could manage to celebrate a Salome-like seduction in a room not much bigger than a closet. Armie almost felt faint and leaned back against the old wooden panels. With a slow, meaningful gaze Timmy raised his hand above his head and stretched graciously towards the ceiling. The black glove pointed heavenwards. His waist looked smaller and even more seductive. He turned and started to draw his arm over his lower back and the swell of his butt, still looking over his shoulder for the effect it had on Armie. In a graceful undulating movement, enhanced by a slight dancing mouvement with his hips, he let the laced-up arm rest over his butt. His head and shoulders turned elegantly to present his back in the best possible light when he suddenly jerked back:

„Luca is coming!“, he exclaimed with a gaze out of the tiny oval window. „Help me!“ He stretched his hand anxiously towards Armie who had recovered in seconds from the dreamlike state Timmy had lured him into. „Help me, for heaven‘s sake. They are so tight!“

„Easy, easy.“ Armie got hold of his hand. „Just keep still.“ 

Timmy threw a frantic gaze out of the window. Thankfully. Luca stopped in the middle of the gravelled path, gestured widely and dramatically and continued talking with his hands and arms in the air to someone he couldn‘t see. Looking down, he saw Armie succeed with the removal of the embarassing kinky glove. When he finally drew it from his hand. Timmy sighed relieved, massaged his wrist to hide any marks the tight fabric had left and mumbled:

„Thanks, man.“

Armie folded the glove, once, twice, until it was a very small black square, put it in his pocket and said firmly:

„I‘ll keep this. You‘ll wear it for me.“ Timmy‘s eyes shot up. „And nothing else.“

Timmy swallowed hard. They looked at each other. The air tingled with tension.

„Did you hear me?“, demanded Armie sternly. Oh. Here we go, Timmy thought.

„Yessir“, he whispered. He lowered his eyes and tried a demure stance, but couldn‘t hide a grin. Armie bit his lips also and tried to stay serious:

„You‘ll lose that smirk when we start for real.“ Timmy tried not to giggle but couldn‘t help it. Armie‘s eyes creased until he joined him. They smiled at each other broadly until Armie couldn‘t help himself: he kissed Timmy flush onto the mouth. They hadn‘t kissed yet today, and those pink, full lips were more inviting than ever. Timmy responded as hungryly as himself, opening himself up and welcoming him with velvety warmth. Like a large, sunwarm sweet strawberry, Armie thought when drowning in the kiss. Caressing Timmy‘s tongue once more, they heard voices approaching. One more bite with the lips and they disentangled themselves. Timmy had to lean on the counter when Armie took his arms off him, blown away by the force of the unexpected kiss, when Armie‘s breath tickled his ear:

„Give me the other one. They are mine now. You‘ll get them when you‘re good.“


End file.
